Prometheus
by amyrashelle
Summary: Set before Enterprise, this is about T'Pol and Archer meeting before they are captain and first officer. They work together on a project, but someone wants them to fail. Can they find a way to work together and protect Earth at the same time?
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:** I posted this once before under another pen name, but I removed it for some tweaking. I will probably be tweaking it even after posting, but I promised someone I would get it posted. This has been written with the collaboration of Elessar King during some rps we did a long time ago. Thanks for the great material, EK!

* * *

Even to care for the needs of the greater good, T'Pol thought this was going above and beyond the call of duty. The humans were a stubborn race that never allowed logic to dictate their actions. She had witnessed their few "logical" decisions and had come to the understanding that it was not the same thing. Granted, the race was capable of magnificent ascensions far beyond those of her people. They had gone from creating the first airplane to landing on the moon in a mere sixty-six years. Now they were on the verge of breaking through yet another barrier – and T'Pol had been assigned to make sure they stayed the course.

A sudden whoosh passed behind her and she turned to see a large fighter craft take off from the ship's docking ports. As the bay doors began to open the windows and doors became ionized to keep the atmosphere stable. The fighter came to the opening at the end of the dock and slipped out into cold space. The fuel injectors immediately compensated for the lack of gravity and aft thrusters kicked in.

The fighter itself was an odd contraption. Sleek and thin like the human fighters of the twentieth century, the back had been changed to accompany the lack of a combustion engine. Instead a single central thruster had been installed. The wings swept close to the body with thrusters on either side and the head had a single window from which, if one looked closely enough, an orange suited body could be seen.

The command center was located on the top decks of the docking station. Several Starfleet officials were busy watching the ship as it passed several buoy markers. The lead, Commander Astor, was talking into a headset. "All right, take it down a notch, Jon. The engine's starting to heat."

"It can take it."

T'Pol raised an eyebrow as she stepped further into the room. The ship was on screen making a dangerous leap into warp two. Astor's eyes narrowed. "Archer, back it down now!"

"It can hold!"

"Lieutenant, that's a direct order!"

With a mumbled grunt of annoyance, the ship suddenly fell back to impulse. "She could have held it," the pilot said angrily.

"I'm not taking the chance to lose our only prototype, Jon. You'll be gentle with her until the injectors have been broken in."

"We've been breaking the injectors in for several weeks!"

"The standard test time of a warp-capable machine is five months," T'Pol said calmly. "Any stringent testing could burn the injectors and cause the reactor to overload."

Everyone turned around, surprised by the voice of the newcomer. Astor frowned briefly before a looking of recognition came to his eyes. "She's right, Jon. Back it down and return to the station now. _That_ is an order." He pulled his headset off and looked at T'Pol. "Major T'Pol?"

She inclined her head slightly. "Commander Astor. I'm here to take over."

"He is all yours." He pushed the headset into her hands. "Good luck. You're gonna need it."

T'Pol raised an eyebrow thoughtfully, but asserted the headset back onto her ear and walked over to the control center. "Do you have a copy of all the sensor logs?" she asked one of the engineers.

"Of course." The woman pressed a button and the sensor logs began unloading all their data on screen. T'Pol's eyes narrowed slightly as she watched it patiently. All around her the humans were glancing at each other with questioning looks that clearly read, "What's she doing here?" No Vulcan had taken command of a human project before and that disturbed them all.

Suddenly the docking manager called in. "Ship is in bay, Commander Astor."

"Send the pilot to the command center," T'Pol ordered. To the nearest engineer, she said, "And give me a portable copy of those logs."

"Aye, ma'am."

The double doors to the command center opened and the pilot walked in. Lieutenant Jonathan Archer looked, for lack of a better word, pissed. T'Pol arched an eyebrow at him as she considered this word in her head. Often times, though she would never admit it, human expressions seem adequate for describing certain situations.

Archer's hair was matted down with sweat from being inside the pressure suit. His blue Starfleet uniform was unzipped at the top and pulled down to wrap around his waist, revealing a second sweat-drenched tank top beneath. All in all, he looked rather dangerous for a biped with no natural defenses other than the ability to shout.

"Who the hell are you?" he demanded loudly.

"Major T'Pol," she said easily. "I will be assisting on this project with you."

"Assisting? I thought I heard Astor say you were taking over?" he accused.

"Given that I outrank you, I suppose you could look at it that way. I prefer to think that we shall be working together in a mutual desire to achieve the same goal."

Jon's lip curled slightly. "And what goal is that?" he asked coldly. "Or, more specifically, _which_ goal? I know what mine is. Vulcan hasn't always been hand in hand with it, though."

"Vulcan is here to support and advise," she said diplomatically. "I have no desire to sabotage any project. As long as it serves a logical purpose, Vulcan will support it. I am here to asses that purpose."

"Yeah, right," he said roughly, pushing past her rudely to get to the control panels. T'Pol tensed slightly, but said nothing to the gesture. Humans were habitually rude – _not_ Vulcans.

She walked over beside him and began pulling sensor logs up. The sensor readings from the first slight were on screen. She reached up and touched one of the spike power fluxes. It pulled a separate window up with the specifications of that flux. T'Pol read over the data carefully. All of it pointed to an overload, yet the compensators had been powerful enough to avert disaster. She found herself impressed with the engineering. Whomever had added this last bit of safety in had undoubtedly saved this run.

"-and if you watch your thrust here you can see where your velocity jumped into warp two," the analyst was telling Jon. "You keep this up and these ships will be flying at warp three in no time."

"If he keeps this up these ships will not exist." T'Pol raised her head and pointed. "See this? That power flux could have killed you."

Jon glanced at the data she was pointing towards and shrugged. "Compensators took care of it."

"Barely." She pulled another line up. "You were saved by a glitch. Should you have attempted this again I doubt you would be alive. You must be more careful with faster speeds."

Jon's eyes narrowed darkly. "The ship handled fine."

"This time." She looked at him. "The ship needs to be diagnosed. It should be capable of warp three, but it barely touched warp two point four."

"Diagnose it!" Jon snapped. "That will take a week! This is the only prototype we have!"

"Then we delay flying for a week." She faced him, her arms crossed over her chest calmly. "Unless you would personally like to test what the breaking point of the ship's injectors are?"

With a look that would do credit to a Klingon, Jon turned around furiously and walked out to go tell the engineers the new plan.

* * *

Admiral Maxwell Forrest was surprised that it took quite so long for Jon Archer to barge through his door furiously. The Vulcan had been sent over in the early morning and it was nearly four in the afternoon. Either Jon was getting more patient, which Forrest highly doubted, or T'Pol had treaded lightly as she had been advised to.

"Admiral, what is a Vulcan doing in charge of the Prometheus Project?" he demanded angrily.

Forrest leaned comfortably back in his chair, amused by the reddening around Jon's neck. "She's not technically in charge, Jon. She is merely there to observe and advise. Astor had other duties."

"So I'm in charge," Jon clarified.

"Yes and no." Forrest smiled a little. "Major T'Pol must approve of all analysis you two conduct together. Should their be a dispute between the two of you, I will have the final say."

"Admiral, she's a Vulcan!" Jon cried out incredulously. "She'll disagree with everything. They don't want humans to fly. They purposefully block everything."

Forrest did laugh now. "Jon, you're being unrealistic. I have the final say, not her."

Jon shook his head, pacing angrily in front of the desk. "This is a human project, Admiral. I don't need her. _We_ don't need her."

"The Vulcans agreed to help with the Prometheus fighters only if one of their people could monitor and assist. I see no reason to compromise for knowledge that we very much need. Without the Vulcan injectors we'd still be at impulse."

"Or we might be better than they are," he argued. "We might be able to actually travel the stars without holding their hand. We're not children! They can't treat us like that and I refuse to accept it!"

"Accept it, lieutenant, or I will assign another pilot," Forrest said seriously. "One who is willing to follow orders."

Jon tensed slightly at the threat, but slowly backed down. "Aye, Admiral," he said softer.

Forrest sat up further, his face softening as he watched the young man before him. "Jon, you must learn to control yourself. I know you're upset. You have every right to be. But Sub-commander T'Pol is here to stay. Get along with her, make nice, and you'll have your Prometheus fighters. Don't and this project could very well go to the wayside."

Jon shook his head angrily, pacing around the room. He didn't like this one bit. "We've been depending on them for too long, Admiral. This is our chance to prove that we don't need them."

"And in proving that we could break an alliance we need," Forrest said. "I'm not willing to break a friendship that's over eighty years old."

Jon stopped moving. He had very little say in this. Forrest had made up his mind and Jon would go along with it or risk losing his position. That wasn't something he could afford to do. With a sigh, he nodded slowly. "All right...but I want you to promise me that you won't let this project disappear."

"I promise to do what I can," Forrest agreed. "How about that?"

Archer smiled a little. "It'll do, sir."

* * *

The engineer finally crawled out of the space between the aft engines. Grease was streaked across his face and clothes, but there was a jubilant look in his eye. "I found it!"

Jon frowned. After almost two weeks, he'd expected him to say what was already assumed – that there was nothing wrong with the ship. "What? What did you find?"

"There's a blockage in the fuel injectors. Some of the piping melted down to create too narrow of a gap. It's been slowing the flow and making the engines work too hard and overheat quickly."

"How come we haven't seen this before now?" Jon demanded angrily. The last thing he wanted to do was tell the Vulcan she was right.

The engineer shrugged. "You pushed it hard for the first time during the last flight. Before this the engines were able to handle it." He shook his head as he ducked back under to begin pulling the piping out. "You're lucky, lieutenant. Another push into warp like that and you'd be space dust."

This was not what Jon wanted to hear. "Get it working," he barked angrily, turning to leave the hanger. He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw the Vulcan standing in front of him patiently. "Was he able to solve the flux problem?" she asked calmly.

Gritting his teeth, Jon hissed out, "Yes."

"Then we should be able to resume flights next week."

"It's not going to take him a week to fix it!" he cried suddenly.

T'Pol nodded. "Agreed, but I want internal diagnostics run before we take the ship out again. You may use that time by practicing in the simulator if you like, lieutenant."

The shock of hearing her suggestions was driving Jon up the wall. "Thank you, Major, but _I_ will be giving the orders."

T'Pol raised her chin slightly, but said nothing to contradict him. With severe reluctance, Jon glanced at the engineer who had pulled out to watch the show. "Fix it, and run diagnostics," he muttered. "I'll be in the simulator." Like a dog with his tail forced between his legs, he pushed past T'Pol and headed towards the doors.

She watched him leave, a sliver of amusement running through her. He was an extremely volatile and unstable man, but intriguing nonetheless. It was a very good thing that her superiors did not know the extent of his volatility. This project would not have lasted long otherwise. By rights, she should have reported his behavior, but she didn't. Part of her understood it, perhaps just a little too well.


	2. Chapter 2

Several hours later found Jon running on the treadmill in the gym. He had been there for almost a half hour, so he was covered in sweat and breathing harder. T'Pol pushed her way into the room, watching him from the front. The muscles in his legs pulsed with every movement and his shoulder blades twisted from side to side, sliding beneath his skin in a controlled manner. It was a stirring sight she had not expected to be so affected by. She gave herself a quick mental slap. Asserting her control over her emotions again, she found she had actually moved several steps closer to him.

Jon turned his head, finally noticing her out of the corner of his eye. They narrowed back at her and he stopped the machine, slowing to a quick walk before finally jumping down. "Major," he said darkly. "What do you need?"

She straightened, her hands resting behind her back in the typical relaxed manner she used in a professional setting. "The ship will be ready soon. I thought we might go over some procedures for when you take it out again."

He grabbed a towel, dabbing his face with it as he continued to watch her. "Procedures? What are you talking about?"

"I am referring to a flight procedure you should use in order to maintain the fighter's internal systems as well as breaking in the injectors for eventually surpassing Warp Three," she explained calmly. "I think a reasoned understanding between us would help smooth the way for any potential -"

"Smooth the way?" he interrupted. "You mean giving you more control over this project! What I do in the ship is not under any damn procedure book. I do what I want up there."

"And the last time you attempted to do that the ship almost exploded," she pointed out. "You need order and discipline up there. You need to be able to control yourself."

Jon wished he had a hammer to throw at her head. Better yet, he wished he could strangle her. A slow death was the key. Everything they were working for in this project, all the flights and engineering came down to one successful test before the Vulcan ambassador, Soval, and three Starfleet Admirals. If they continued at this pace, though, it would be years before that test occurred. Jon wasn't going to let this project fall through the cracks like so many other had in the past. The Vulcans would not ruin this one, not this time.

Holding a hand up, he looked around for his towel. "The ship can take it. If we went at the speed you are suggesting we'd be moving backwards. Humans don't work that slow."

"Agreed," she said calmly. "And the results are usually quite damaging at first."

He turned on her angrily. "We did fine before the Vulcans came! We might not have been a space traveling culture, but we could have got there even without your people's help! Humans might fall down, might stumble, but we always move forward."

"It remains to be seen," she said calmly. "Humans are a volatile and disordered species. Restraint is not a natural reaction. Your baser instincts typically win out."

"Human instinct is stronger than you think," he said between gritted teeth. "And I'm proving it to you now. As badly as I want to knock you on your ass, I'm _restraining_ myself rather well."

From the look he was giving her, T'Pol debated whether or not to mention that he seemed to be taking it all out on his towel. It was wrapped tightly in his hand and stretched between the other. She doubted Surak would consider that true restraint. "Perhaps you should work on what the testing limits shall be," she suggested calmly. "A prototype like that cannot simply be crashed into a wall, as I understand you humans did previously with your motorized transportations. It must be handled with finesse."

"No, if we did it your way then we would be holding the ship in a giant hanger diaper and waiting for your engineers to give it the okay in another hundred years."

"Vulcan engineers are more advanced than humans," she pointed out. "They would be able to diagnose its problems quicker."

"Assuming it _has_ problems," Jon shot back.

T'Pol gave him an even look. "All machines have issues, lieutenant. Even Vulcan mechanics is not perfect."

"Maybe I should be recording this," he sneered.

Her eyes narrowed slightly, but there was no change in her tone. "Lieutenant, if you continue to be this unproductive I will have no choice but to inform Admiral Forrest. I do not wish to do that. I believe together we can create an equitable working partnership that will help strengthen Earth's defenses. I cannot do this without your help, though."

Whatever smartass remark had been on the tip of his tongue vanished. For some reason her eyes, as calm and collected as they were, hinted a spark of desperation in their gaze. Jonathan didn't argue as that stunning realization set in.

She really _was_ trying to be nice.

T'Pol crossed her arms in front of her as she waited for Jon to reply. She looked so..._Vulcan_ that it was difficult to watch her and think of anything but a species he disliked immensely. Her face was so stern and emotionless. She was the dutiful Vulcan right up to those chocolate brown eyes of her. There she broke all the rules. How had he missed it?

"Lieutenant." Her voice broke his reverie and he realized she had been speaking for some time. "If we are to help each other then the first thing I require is a commitment from you to establish guidelines for how these tests shall be conducted from now on. We must have rules to ensure no one gets hurt."

He nodded his head a bit. "Very well. On the next flight we'll take it slow and easy. No crazy stuff."

That wasn't exactly what she was looking for and he knew it. But from the look she gave him she would let it slide. "All right, thank you, Lieutenant. I shall see you tomorrow." Dropping her hands to her sides, she left the room. Jon stood in the middle alone. There was only one thing on his mind.

_She had tried to be nice_.

* * *

"There's something wrong about saluting a Vulcan," Trip grumbled. He was slouched over in his chair, a beer in hand and a very pronounced expression of annoyance on his face. He was well into his second glass and still the alcoholic haze did nothing to promote his mood.

Jon held his glass up, considering Trip's words. "I don't actually have to salute her, you know."

"She's a major, you said? You gotta salute her."

"She's not a Starfleet officer."

"She's at least three ranks ahead of you on a ship and five if you stay in the Compound," Trip pointed out.

"You can't compare Vulcan ranks to human ranks," Jon argued. "They're different."

"So? Works the same way, just different names." He took a swig of his drink, still looking annoyed. "I thought it was tough dealing with Soval all day. I can only image how a female acts."

Jon didn't immediately respond. He'd been considering the same thing and each time he came up with the same answer. "She's not as bad as Soval."

"_No_ one could be as bad as Soval," Trip murmured. He caught Jon's eye and leaned forward on the table. "Do you know how many diagnostic tests he _recommended_ we run on the engine? Do you know how many times he _recommended_ this? We'll test the thing to death before we ever get it built!"

Archer chuckled, throwing back the rest of his drink. "You could always salute him," he teased. "Maybe that'll put him in a better mood."

"Even Vulcans know an insult when they see it," Trip smirked. He threw back the rest of his drink, easing in his chair as he watched the people passed by. "Maybe I could get on the late shift. Soval never comes by very late. I guess he's got a curfew."

Jon chuckled. "If only I were so lucky. She's there every night, later than everyone else, even me sometimes."

"Dedicated." Trip arched an eye at him. "Interesting, coming from a Vulcan."

"Vulcans are quite dedicated."

The two men turned suddenly at hearing a new voice. A younger Vulcan stood before them. His thick brown robes covered his arms that where hidden inside the large sleeves. Jon had seen him around briefly tagging beside Soval. Trip knew him better. "Toval," he said coldly. "I didn't think Vulcans drank?"

Toval's eyes narrowed only slightly. The tension between the two was so thick Jon was surprised people passing between them weren't knocked over by its invisible force. "Your people need more dedication. With it perhaps Vulcans would not need to...assert their dominance."

Jon and Trip suddenly stood up to face the newcomer. "Dominance, is it?" Trip challenged. "Say that again and see who dominates who."

Toval's face flashed cold amusement. "Only humans take everything to the physical level. Rationale is not your natural instinct. It is far more...barbaric and crude."

"Yet oddly effective against people like you," Trip snapped.

"And animals," he said coldly.

Jonathan opened his mouth when a softer feminine voice spoke up. The words were Vulcan, but there was a slight guttural slur to them that made whatever was being said sound almost like slang. Toval turned around, glowering slightly. Before him stood a short, petite Asian woman with long black hair and a Starfleet jumper uniform on. She raised an eyebrow at him. "Or am I wrong?" she asked in English.

Toval pursed his lips tightly. "Humans," he spat coldly and walked away. The woman glanced back at Jon and Trip. "Lieutenants," she said, nodding her head before continuing down towards a group of women in the back. Trip's mouth fell open as he watched her go. "What was that all about?" he demanded, intrigued.

Jon shook his head, but another lieutenant who had watched the whole spectacle paused at their table. "She told the Vulcan that he'd best keep his mouth shut in a human bar where many _animals_ were apt to killing their prey slowly." She raised an eyebrow at him. "Nice, given that Vulcans are twice as strong as we are." She continued walking down the row.

Jon and Trip looked at each other for a long time. Finally Trip raised a glass up in a toast. "To the animals."

* * *

After three hours in the air, the ship was still performing well. T'Pol was impressed by the engineering. While it was decidedly less advanced than that of a Vulcan ship, it was still an enormous leap for a species that had been planet-locked for nearly two centuries after landing on the moon. That kind of achievement was note worthy, even by a Vulcan such as herself.

Archer had so far been cooperating with their agreed restrictions. He had not surpassed certain flight measures and the ship was performing very well. Another five minutes and they could call it a successful test flight. A few more tests and she would feel comfortable pushing it into Warp 3. "All right, Lieutenant, that was an excellent run. Please perform the maneuvers we spoke of and return it to base."

"I think she needs a little push, Major. She's been behaving all day. How about some fun?"

T'Pol sighed, but glanced over at the engineer-for-the-day. He monitored all of the ship's functions during flights. With a shrug, he looked back at T'Pol. "Everything is running beautifully, Major. I think a small push wouldn't be a bad idea. It would at least let us know if the repairs worked."

"Very well. You may advance to Warp 2.5, Lieutenant. No further."

Jon smiled. It may not have been Warp 3, but it was enough to satisfy him. Pushing in the appropriate calculations on the circuit board, he gently began moving the throttle up. As he picked up speed one of the monitoring crewmen spoke up. "Warp 2....warp 2.1....2.2....2.3...2.4...2.5."

T'Pol spoke into the headset quickly. "That's enough, Lieutenant."

Jon steadied out the speed and continued to hold it. "It's amazing out here, guys. I wish you could see it."

For a brief moment, everyone in the control center was smiling. T'Pol couldn't help feeling the silent jubilation of the humans around her. This was a proud moment for Earth.

Suddenly the engineer frowned and quickly began typing on his console. Several alarms began to ring from other consoles as well. "What the....back off!" He pressed down on his console to speak to Archer. "Back off now, Jon! You're overheating the core!"

"I didn't do anything!" Jon cried, but immediately pulled the throttle back down towards Warp 1.5. The alarms were still going off. "Shit...we got to get him out of there." The engineer looked up to T'Pol worriedly.

T'Pol quickly pulled her headset on again. "Lieutenant, eject right now!"

"I'm not ejecting! We can't lose this ship," Jon argued.

"We can build another ship," T'Pol argued. "We cannot replace you. Eject."

"Warp field is destabilizing," another crewman called out. Several of the monitors began sounding off alarms. T'Pol always wondered why those alarms were necessary. It seemed to be in human character to exact a certain amount of panic into situations where panic was the very last desired reaction.

Unfortunately for her, Jon was testing that very limit. "Archer, get out of there now!"

"It's breaking apart!" Suddenly the warp field failed and the ship immediately came into view, disintegrating before their very eyes. Pieces flew off and whole sections fell away. Within ten seconds the entire fighter was a floating pile of rubble. The commander center was silent, every person frozen in place as they stared at the view screen. Even T'Pol could not look away, though the staring hardly served any logical purpose.

Suddenly one of the men spoke up. "Major, the lieutenant's beacon just came online!" He quickly faced his console as T'Pol was up behind his chair.

"Is he alive?" she demanded.

"His seat is."

She pressed a hand on the commlink. "Major, get the medical transport to that wreckage. There is a potential survivor!"

"Aye, ma'am."

She turned to another engineer standing nearby for support. "Get a cargo ship out there. I want all of the pieces brought back in for inspection." The engineer quickly left to fulfill the orders. No one would question her today, not in the absence of Lieutenant Archer – possibly a permanent absence.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note:** These chapters have had minimal tweaking. They were posted before. When new chapters are put up I will definitely let everyone know. Again, special thanks to Elessar King for giving me the RP material to write this! She's the best!

* * *

There was an enormous surge of pain that Jon had not expected. How could death hurt this much? Everywhere was black and quiet except for the soft hiss and hum of a machine.

Space didn't make any noise. There wasn't any oxygen to support it.

Very slowly, expecting his eyes to be sucked out or some other ridiculously painful occurrence to happen, Jon opened them up. No space. No eternal darkness. Dim lights shined through the window of his hospital room. Outside in the hall the various doctor's and nurses could be seen walking up and down the hall, sometimes with patients, sometimes with empty gurneys, sometimes guiding a worried loved one.

Hell would not have gurneys, he assured himself. So therefore he was not in hell. Heaven would not hurt this much. He was alive. Damn it.

The door to his room opened and a doctor walked in, smiling gently at him. He looked too young to be a doctor. Blonde hair and geeky eyeglasses that some of the science and medical types preferred to the laser eye correction surgery spelled out recent graduate with no experience. "Welcome back," he said quietly. "I'm Dr. Avery. How are you feeling?"

"Like I was inside a plane that exploded," he said. His voice was hoarse and he coughed hard to clear it. Dr. Avery walked over and quickly held a cup of water up to his lips for him to sip. Jon pulled back a moment later, nodding his silent thanks.

Avery straightened up to watch him. "You're very lucky, lieutenant. You ejected seconds before your ship blew up. You have a concussion, severely bruised ribs, and a broken leg. We healed the leg, but it was a compound fracture, so I want you to stay off it for a week and give it a little rest."

Jon sighed softly, turning his head over on the bed. "What about the ship?"

"I deal in humans, not ships. Perhaps your colleague can tell you."

Jon frowned. "Which one?"

The doctor pointed. Sleeping on the couch in the corner of the room was Major T'Pol. There was a hospital blanket covering her and a pillow under her head "She's been there since you came in."

Jon stared at her for a long time, confused. "Why?"

"Don't know." Avery smiled a little. "Kind of un-Vulcan-like. The last Vulcan I had in here refused to sit with their friend because it was illogical to wait according to them." He looked admiringly at T'Pol. "She refused to leave."

"How long have I been here?" he demanded, not looking away from her.

"Since last night," he said softly. "It's five pm the next day."

T'Pol had waited by his bedside. Jon didn't know what to say. How could a Vulcan do something their culture told them was so illogical? He already knew T'Pol was different, but this was something else entirely. Vulcans did not violate logic by sitting by the bedside of an injured person. That was a human response to an emotional need for closure.

"Get some rest, lieutenant," Dr. Avery said quietly. "You've got another week here before we can let you out."

Jon merely nodded, not looking away from where T'Pol slept. "Thank you."

* * *

"It's all about the thrust...the right amount of leverage can do anything." Trip grinned at the ensign, a beautiful young woman of only twenty-two inquiring about the physics of lift-off.

Trip was an expert in lift-off.

She giggled at his description. This flirting had been going on shamelessly for about fifteen minutes. Trip usually didn't like giving instruction to the new engineers, but he had made an exception for Ensign Kristie Hart. "So enough push and the power will use its own momentum?"

Trip leaned closer. "Well a little help never hurt anyone."

Kristie giggled again, but her smile faded and she quickly pulled away. Trip turned around to see what she was looking at. Immediately he got to his feet. Admiral Forrest was walking towards him, looking determined and without humor. Something was wrong.

"Lieutenant, please follow me," Forrest said. "Now. There's been an accident."

Trip frowned in concern as he quickly hurried over to him. "Why, what happened?"

"The Prometheus fighter broke up in space when the warp field failed. Jonathan Archer was on board."

For a brief moment Trip felt his throat tighten to the point that he couldn't breathe. "Is he okay?" he demanded angrily, ignoring every kind of protocol and decorum for the more important reality that his best friend might be dead.

Forrest didn't stop walking. "He's banged up, but he'll be okay. Starfleet Medical is taking care of him. I've got a more important job for you."

"Admiral, I gotta go see him!"

"He's being well cared for, lieutenant. You have your own patient to diagnose."

Ambassador Soval was standing alone beside one of the wings of the fighter. They were deep inside the bay of the cargo ship that had returned with all the pieces. Each one looked like it had been gnawed off or otherwise ripped in one swift tug. Jagged edges stuck out at odd angles and parts of the metal had melted away in undefined clumps.

Trip looked over the wreckage with a sense of loss he had not expected. This project had been everyone's dream and hope. This was to be the ship that launched them into Warp three and maybe even Warp four. More importantly, it had been Jon's dream ever since he was assigned to this project. As the primary test pilot he had spent countless hours going over the mechanics and quantum physics involved in sending a ship so quickly through space. Hours and hours the two friends had stayed up through the night studying, making fun of each other, and arguing over ridiculous claims. All of it had focused on this one piece of machinery that now looked like an antique car wreck.

Forrest came up beside Soval. "Ambassador. There's...no need for you to be here at this time in the evening."

Soval glanced at the two humans before examining the wreckage. "Major T'Pol informed me of the accident. I think it is pertinent that I be here given that this project enveloped the attention of my best aide."

"What the hell happened?" Trip demanded, staring at the ship. "This didn't fall apart. It looks like a kid took his toy plane and tore it to shreds."

"How very descriptive," Soval said calmly. "Yes, the ship suffered remarkable damage for merely losing its warp field." Trip ignored them as he walked closer towards where the engine had been centered on the back of the ship. Reaching inside one of the curled pieces of metal, he began fiddling with some of the warp core pieces.

"The warp field protects it from severe impacts," Forrest lectured. "If it fails then it would stand to say that this kind of damage was possible."

"Possible, but unlikely. What is more probable is faulty engineering." Soval slid his hands inside his sleeves, staring coolly at the machine. "Your mechanics clearly have not mastered a ship that can advance past Warp two safely yet."

"Ambassador, I'm hesitant to make such a leap until Lieutenant Tucker is done with his examination."

Soval sniffed a little. He didn't like Tucker and everyone knew it. "He is a fine engineer, but he is still human. A Vulcan should be looking at it. We have the expertise to properly analyze this time of wreckage."

Forrest raised an eyebrow. "Then where is Major T'Pol?"

There was a visible tightening of Soval's lips. "Ensuring the welfare of your pilot," he said coolly.

Neither leader said anything more to each other for at that moment Trip stood up, wiped his hands off on his uniform, and declared, "It ain't the warp field collapse and it ain't faulty engineering. The ship was sabotaged."

This time it was Soval and Forrest who looked surprised. In Soval's case it was better described as a mild curiosity mingled with doubt. "Sabotage?" he asked calmly. "How do you determine that?"

"A ship don't get this torn up unless it explodes from the inside out. The warp core melted this part."

"Due to the warp field failing," Soval huffed.

"Due to someone who knew how to hurt this machine in the right place." Trip shook his head. "It'll take a while to sort this out, but I guarantee this weren't no accident."

Forrest took a deep breath. He had been afraid of that. "Ambassador, I feel that - "

"Clearly your people need more assistance." He glanced at Forrest. "Major T'Pol will continue to participate in this project with the condition that she leads it."

"What?" Trip straightened, looking furious. "No, this is Jon Archer's project! He's lead on it!" He faced Forrest pleadingly. "Admiral, this ain't right! This is a human project! Vulcans got nothing to do with it!"

Soval raised an eyebrow. "If you do not comply then I will be forced to withdraw Major T'Pol. Your project will be without any kind of leadership while Lieutenant Archer recovers. Who would monitor the rebuilding of this ship? Who would check the security logs? Who would investigate this so-called sabotage?"

There was silence between the three men. As much as Forrest didn't want to admit it, they needed Vulcan assistance. "He's right," he said firmly. "Major T'Pol shall lead the Prometheus Project until such a time as it is determined no longer necessary."

That was like writing a blank check to the Vulcans. Trip felt like throwing a tantrum on behalf of Archer. "And what about when Jon gets better? She still gonna pull all the strings?"

Soval reluctantly addressed Trip. "I suggest you instruct him to eject sooner next time." He had no doubt there would be a next time.

* * *

When Jon woke up again T'Pol was no longer on the couch. She was standing at the foot of his bed with his medical PADD in her hand, reading over the doctor's notes carefully. Her hair was smoothed out, but her clothes were worn and stale and her face looked tired in a distant manner only Vulcans could show. She had yet to go home despite Soval's repeated insistence that she leave Jon and return to Sausalito for some much needed rest.

He watched her through half open eyes, debating whether or not to pretend to be asleep. He was still confused by her presence. Even though a silent truce had been established between them over the past few weeks of working together, he was still reluctant to be in her presence and she still battled with him over command decisions with the fighter. It was a tug-of-war game they were constantly playing. Why then, when this latest accident had practically ripped the rope from his hands, was she standing by his side in support?

"What are you doing?" he asked softly.

T'Pol's eyes rose from the PADD to look at him curiously, clearly unaware that he had been watching her. "I am reading over your physician's notes. They are very thorough."

"Good. I'd hate to have a doctor who wasn't thorough." He closed his eyes momentarily, stretching his aching muscles. He had been in bed far too long. He needed to get out, to walk around, pop into a simulator and run some tests flights. Anything but sit in bed all day long.

She set the PADD down and walked around the bed closer to him. "How are you feeling?"

The question sounded more like someone asking the square root of four. Calm, precise, emotionless. Except it wasn't her tone that made him raise an eyebrow in surprise. "Better...still sore. Why are you asking me this?"

"It's my understanding that humans inquire as to the health and wellbeing of other humans when they have fallen ill or become injured." Her hands rested behind her back, chin raised a mild arrogance that challenged his question. "I believe you consider it to be polite."

Now both eyebrows went up. "Vulcans aren't polite," he blurted out.

T'Pol canted her head to the side. "Perhaps not, but we recognize that some customs are important to certain races. We try and accommodate where we must."

_Accommodate my ass_, he thought roughly. "I've never seen a Vulcan act polite," he argued.

She narrowed her eyes slightly. "That is because politeness is an ineffective human custom that does not allow for proper analysis or logical deduction. It is merely a fabrication of words meant for the emotional gratitude of the person you are speaking to and a type of social acceptance that in no way reflects your true skills or value as a member of society."

"So that's your way of saying being polite is stupid."

"In your own crude manner of speaking, yes."

Jon's jaw twitched as he tried not to smile. "So when you were being polite, you were in fact being stupid."

T'Pol's tone took on a dry air. "I can see you are feeling better."

"Much," he said, grinning at her by this point.

"Then I'll leave you to rest." She walked over to the bench and grabbed her own personal PADD she had come in with.

Jon pushed himself up a little, a twinkle of amusement still left in his face. "I suppose I should thank you for sticking around. Not real sure why you did that either."

T'Pol crossed her arms in front of her chest. "I was merely awaiting word from the doctor as to your condition. For a few hours they were not sure if you had suffered any intense cranial damage. Perhaps you did, but I can see that it is not affecting your vital systems or your vocal center. You are no longer at risk and therefore I will leave. There is much work to be done."

"What about the fighter?" he demanded. The ship had been destroyed. What would they do their testing on now? If nothing could be salvaged it would take over a year to rebuild that fighter. The project would be put on hold and everyone currently working on it would be reassigned to other projects. When...if... the fighter ever got rebuilt the project would continue to remain on hold until the necessary personnel could be pulled away from their assignments to work on it. Years could pass before the Prometheus was ever looked at again.

Jon couldn't let that happen. He wouldn't.

T'Pol saw the look in his eye, the utter determination and fanatical passion. It was something to be admired and wary of. "An investigation into the cause of the damage must be concluded before any more flight testing can continue."

"We need to continue flight tests," he demanded.

"Take it up with Admiral Forrest," T'Pol answered. "For now, the project is under review. I will keep you informed, lieutenant." Then she left.

Jon remained where he saw, pondering this new information. _Under review._

He had to get out of this bed.

* * *

The command center was quiet and the lights were dim. There was no one around and all the consoles had been shut down except for a single monitor in the front of the room. T'Pol was typing something on the keyboard, give soft orders to the computer as she sifted through the sensor logs. It was well past midnight, but her hands and eyes showed no hint of slowing down or getting tired.

Soval slipped inside, watching his aide continue to run diagnostic reports. This devotion was beginning to concern him. Her dedication was one of the many reasons that he had hired her, but he was beginning to think it was entering the realm of obsession. After all, she was only supposed to be advising the humans on this project. "You should be asleep," he said, stepping closer to her.

She turned around, surprised by his presence. Soval was never up past a certain hour unless absolutely required to be. "There is much work to do," she answered, focusing on the monitor again.

"Work that can wait until a more decent hour," he pointed out.

"I have no other pressing matters," she assured him. "This is important."

"To humans." Soval glanced at the screen. "You are here merely to assist and advise, T'Pol. This is not your project. You needn't lose sleep over it."

"I am not tired." She glanced at him. "Why are you here?"

"Access logs indicated you had not returned to the Compound. I wished to assess your condition." He picked up a print out and glanced through the numbers. "Every indication of a malfunction in the warp coil."

"Yes," she agreed, her hands pausing on the keyboard to look at him. "Far too perfect an accident, in fact."

Soval pursed his lips a little. "So you agree with Lieutenant Tucker's assessment?"

T'Pol paused. She knew how much Soval disapproved of Tucker. More than once she had watched them argue. "Duke it out" was the phrase she had heard one of the human engineers refer to their meetings. She approved of the syntax. Tucker was a hotheaded human, a prime example of the fundamental flaw with humans – emotion. Yet she had seen his work and, despite his flaws, he was a gifted engineer – perhaps one to rival Vulcans.

"His analysis is correct," she finally spoke. "It was sabotage."

Soval set the print out down. "Get some rest, T'Pol. You needn't lose sleep over humans. This project will not last long."

T'Pol hesitated before saying what she knew could potentially be dangerous. "The ship will need to be rebuilt, but I do not see cause for this project to flounder. The engineering was solid. The fighter could work."

"It could, but at what expense?" he asked coldly. "I will not lose you to some human who does not wish to reach the stars."

"There is no proof a human did this," she pointed out.

"A Vulcan would not do this. It is illogical. Humans will fail on their own. We need not assist." He turned to leave. "Find the human saboteur, T'Pol, and finish this. You have one week." The doors slid open as he walked out. T'Pol stood rooted in place, her eyes resting on the spot where he had disappeared through the twin doors. He had given her a direct order despite its casual nature. _Shut down the human project._ The project she had already spent countless hours working on. There was no reason why the ship could not work if it was given time to be tested without interruption. T'Pol was certain it would be a success.

First she had to battle against whoever the saboteur was. Then she'd have to handle Jon Archer and Soval. Her work was far from complete.


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: ** I'm on a role, trying to get these old chapters uploaded. Again, minimal tweeking. EK RULES!

* * *

Trip watched Jon rush around his hospital room with a heavy limp at an impressive speed. A grin spread over his face. The man was relentlessly dedicated. That was sometimes his greatest flaw. He'd seen his friend go days on end without sleeping because of a mission or the mere thought of one. The result was usually a face plant on the table during a conference with Admiral Forrest at the conclusion of said mission. "I thought the doctor put you on bed rest for another week."

Jon looked up from where he was tugging his uniform on. Relief rested heavy in his eyes when he saw it was Trip. "They did, but I'm not about to let my project stay in the hands of a Vulcan. How has it been going?"

"Well, the short and happy version is – it ain't." Trip stepped in, letting the door shut behind him. "It's on hold until T'Pol finishes her investigation. She says it was sabotage too."

Jon's fingers tensed as he pulled the zipper up on his suit in anger that hadn't been there a moment ago. "Of course she did," he said angrily. "Because that way the project isn't a unanimously approved decision. That way she can say how it should be shut down and Soval can do a little happy dance on its grave and he can sit in front of the High Command with the news that humans have once again been prevented from delving deeper into space exploration technology. She was just assigned to help, she said so herself! She doesn't care at all about it! What happens to it now would make her happy, just to throw it away and get back to her precious Vulcan Compound."

While he ranted on Trip just sat on the edge of the bed, watching his friend with a bemused eye. "Yeah," he said, letting his feet drag across the floor as he swung them back and forth. "That's why she and I have been up for three days straight with no sleep trying to find out who did it. 'Cause she don't care."

The comment took Jon by surprise and he froze in the midst of his erratic dressing movements. He slowly turned to look at his friend, confusion and more than a little shame in his eyes. "Really?" he asked softly. Trip's dedication didn't surprise him. His best friend helped him out on everything. T'Pol's actions, though, that was something unexpected. Vulcans simply did not show that kind of commitment to anything non-Vulcan.

Trip nodded. "She told Soval the project could continue. That production and testing could proceed. You know…she's not so bad for a Vulcan." He smiled a little. "Kinda funny, actually. I don't think she means to be or maybe I'm just sleep-deprived, but I laughed at her words more than once. Don't think she really appreciated that."

Jon paused, surprised at the sudden heat that rushed his face at the thought of Trip and T'Pol alone at night in the command center. "So you two have been working together on this exclusively?"

"Yeah." Trip stretched out over Tony's bed, yawning loudly. "Dead tired from it, too."

"And did you find anything?"

He opened one eye and looked up at his friend. "Took a while to get there, didn't it," he teased.

Jon's eyes narrowed playfully at him. "Come on, Trip, stop gloating. What did you find?"

Trip swung his legs over and sat up again, his face serious. "Well, it ain't good news and it ain't bad news."

He was getting frustrated with Trip's tap dancing around the issue. "Then what is it?"

"A Vulcan," he said simply.

That took Jon by surprise. Despite all his arguments with T'Pol, he had really expected it to be a human. After all, some humans didn't agree with the decision to create fighter planes in space. They though it was just asking for trouble from the more violent species they had heard about.

But a Vulcan inflicting that kind of harm on a human project was unheard of. Vulcans used legal channels. Never, since first contact in 2088, had they ever heard of a Vulcan raising a hand in anger or repulsion to a human. They were such a logic-driven species that it made no sense for them to commit acts of sabotage and terrorism. So shocking was the announcement that Jon began to doubt it. "How did you confirm this?"

"I didn't," he admitted. "T'Pol did. She found some altered security footage that she was able to clean up and showed it to me. It was a Vulcan who sabotaged the ship. She says she doesn't know who it is. We ran it through the Vulcan Database and came up with nothing."

Jon's eyes narrowed. "And what's she doing with the info?"

"I told you, she's suggesting that the project continue, only this time she's asking for enhanced security settings with no Vulcan interaction allowed outside authorized personnel." Trip grinned. "Kinda cool, huh?"

"Yeah..." He buttoned the top of his uniform. "I need to go see Forrest. Go back and keep an eye on the plane, okay? I should be there in a few hours."

"Sure." He stood up and headed for the door, but Trip paused in the doorway to look at him. "You should go say something to T'Pol," he added. "She deserves it."

Jon glanced up as Trip walked out of the room. A Vulcan who deserved his gratitude? What was the world coming to?

* * *

The office of Admiral Maxwell Forrest was packed with humans and Vulcans, a fact neither race appreciated. Ambassador Soval was with one of his aides, gazing coolly at the bumbling humans across from them. On the other side of the room were Captain Walton and Admiral Green. With the entrance of Jon into the fold it made the tension in the air that much thicker. Jon was not the most diplomatic presence. Forrest took a deep breath, preparing for the civil unrest to turn into full out war. "Lieutenant Archer, so good to see you up and about," he said warmly. Green nodded his head curtly at him, but otherwise continued staring darkly at the Vulcans. Walton shook Jon's hand warmly – the two were good friends who hadn't seen each other since Walton had taken up his spot on Jupiter Station.

Soval and his aide waited until the emotional human introductions were over with before speaking. "Lieutenant Archer, it is agreeable that you suffered no permanent injury from the unfortunate accident."

"Sabotage," Jon shot back in quiet anger. "By a Vulcan, as I was told."

Forrest stood quickly. "Yes, well, that's what we're here about. Soval doesn't believe that Major T'Pol's readings were accurate or else a face would have been found in the Vulcan Database. He wanted the data rerun and the project to be continually placed on hold."

_Of course he does_, Jon thought violently. "No," he argued. "We have who did it, we just need to find them. With the additional requests for security the place should be fine while she finishes up her investigation. I don't want to be held up and longer than we already have been."

"Lieutenant, the fact remains that the Vulcan could not be identified," Soval said calmly. "It could just as easily have been a human disguised as a Vulcan."

"I was wondering when you'd get to that particular theory," he said coldly. "It was a Vulcan. The security's been doubled. Now I want to continue."

Forrest glanced over at Green. He was the admiral in charge of security at the orbiting space dock. "I think with the extra security we'll be fine," Green said coldly, his gaze murderous to the Vulcans. He'd always suspected them of some sort of espionage and now they finally had proof. "I will have to insist that no Vulcans be allowed on for the time being," he added.

Soval's jaw tightened as he looked to Forrest. "Admiral, you must realize that this is a mistake. Vulcans would never harm humans in any way. We seek mutual assistance, not sabotage."

"Then explain how a Vulcan showed up on tape," Jon demanded.

"That is why we will begin an immediate investigation on our side." Soval straightened as he prepared to leave, a move Jon had come to be very familiar with. "Major T'Pol will conclude her investigation and return to the Vulcan Compound." With that, the Vulcans left. Everyone in the room began to relax.

"Damn Vulcans," Green said with familiar vulgarity. "Every time we take a step forward they shove us back a kilometer." He looked at Forrest. "I'll get a security detail set up around the station and surrounding area."

"Thank you, Admiral," Forrest said, but his eyes were locked onto Jon. "Would you mind giving the lieutenant and I some time alone?"

"Of course not." Green saluted them and left. Walton followed suit, winking at Jon as he headed out.

Forrest sat back down behind his desk with a sigh. "This is an awful mess," he said without pretense. "If it really is a human playing a Vulcan then we'll have serious issues with the High Command about security for their people. And if it really is a Vulcan - "

"It is," Jon insisted. "It's the only explanation."

"A Vulcan not in the Vulcan Database?" Forrest raised a eyebrow at the rather ludicrous suggestion. "I must say, I was surprised you didn't offer the most obvious explanation."

Jon looked confused and frowned at him while he took a seat behind his desk. Forrest smiled a little. "Major T'Pol is the only Vulcan with immediate access to every part of this project."

Jon pursed his lips in thought. "I don't think she did it," he said quietly. "She's too...Vulcan to do such a thing."

"But she is the most logical choice," he pointed out with a slight smile. "I think you don't hate her, Lieutenant Archer."

He couldn't help smiling. "She's not as...bad as I thought she'd be. She's quite neutral about it all."

"She's a good officer and a good scientist. If you're not against it, I'm going to recommend to Soval that he let her stay on as an advisor." He sat up a bit. "She's good for you, Jon. You need to start letting your guard down some."

Jon shook his head, looking away. Forrest was always trying to make Jon more cooperative with the Vulcans. He'd never really understood the reason for it. After all, Jon was a pilot. There wasn't much cause for a pilot to have to worry about a Vulcan. In fact, Jon liked it that way. All he worried about was space and his own ship. There was no diplomacy, no political correctness. It was just himself and the freedom of the space before him.

Forrest had been speaking for some time until Jon realized it. "...temporarily reassigned Tucker to assist in the investigation. He seems to work well with Major T'Pol. When they're finishing up you can continue with the actual flight schedules."

He nodded slowly, again surprised by the warm surge of anger that came with the thought of Trip and T'Pol alone together. "Thank you, Admiral. I should probably get going. There's a lot of work to do."

The two men stood up and Forrest smiled at him again. Ever since the loss of Henry Archer he had felt responsible for the boy who was now a man and a great pilot. Forrest saw massive potential in Jon. He could be a great leader, a captain of his own starship. All this was assuming that he could get the man to cooperate with people he didn't like. Stubbornness was Jon Archer's worst trait. The inability to get along with Vulcans was his second.

* * *

It was late, so late that even the guards were nodding off outside. In the command room T'Pol was still running data against the nameless Vulcan they'd found. None of his facial aspects had come up in the system and it was beginning to drive her a little crazy. Pulling the data again, she began her calculations from scratch. There must have been something she was missing.

Every Vulcan was in the Vulcan Database. The only explanations she could come up with was either the image was too broken for an accurate analysis or this Vulcan was not a Vulcan. Neither thought was very comforting. Soval had already told her multiple times to come back to the Compound, but she was unable to pull herself away. If this was true then they needed to know who it was. Vulcans were not murderers or saboteurs and she would prove it.

The crushing blow to her head was enough to send her sliding across the ground into the opposite wall. Something warm was running down her face and her vision was dizzy at best. She stumbled several times trying to force herself up. What was going on?

She turned over in time to see a large fist pummel her hard in the stomach. She lost her air and began gasping for breath as she curled over on her side. Her eyes shifted upwards in hopes of catching a glance at her assailant. Whomever he was, she didn't know him. He was Vulcan...the pointed ears were far too real looking to be synthetic. And the force of his strength made it clear he was no weak human. Reaching down, he flipped T'Pol over hard and pressed his knee into her back. The pain began to make her cry out. She tried to claw her way free, but the unknown Vulcan refused to let up. Why did he not speak? Why did he attack her?

With a vicious twist followed by a sickening snap, T'Pol felt her arm break. Tears began to slip down her face as she fought back the desire to vomit.

But he wasn't done.


End file.
